


A Fuss in the Barn

by diblums



Category: Letterkenny (TV), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diblums/pseuds/diblums
Summary: Ok, this is maybe a weird one and I have no idea how many people will actually know both shows, but fuck it, these guys were fun as hell to write together. I actually spent several years living in North Perth county in Southern Ontario, and I know Listowel well (Jared Keeso's home town, the inspiration for Letterkenny). So I have met people who talk like them, I've seen the skids hanging around outside the bar, I've heard the colourful language of the locals. And honestly, some of the old bank barns around here look haunted as fuck, so it wasn't hard to find a crossover point for these shows.Anyway, I tried hard to edit this 10,000 word monster myself, so any questions or edits, feel free to comment.





	1. Lamb to the Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> Just recently broke this beast into chapters, 10k is hard to swallow all at once. Sorry for any confusion!

"Was out tillin' the field the other day."

The warm days of spring were swiftly approaching in Letterkenny, the aroma of freshly-tilled soil on the breeze as Wayne squinted against the setting sun. He pulled the pack of darts out of his front shirt pocket, pushing one up with his thumb and snagging it on the moisture of his bottom lip. Steadying the tractor's steering wheel with one knee, he shielded the end of the cigarette and flicked his lighter until the end caught and glowed. Dart in one hand and the other on the wheel, he rounded the corner of the field and started the final stretch back to the barn.

This is the part Wayne's still unclear about when he tells the guys later: through the open barn door, Wayne saw the figure of a woman in a tattered dress and bonnet. 'Cept instead of a pitchfork or a broom, she's holding a carving knife dripping with blood. In her other hand, she's holding a man's severed head by the hair. Then her image seemed to flicker before disappearing.

"So she cut of her husband's head?" Darryl posits.

"Couldn't say if it was her husband's head, but she was holding a man's head regardless." Wayne took a long drag off his dart, then cautioned a glance over at the barn before exhaling a shroud of smoke.

"Well I thinks she'd has to be pretty passionates about him if she's gonna cuts off his head." Squirrelly Dan added.

"'Cept when I pulled the tractor into the barn, there's no woman, no head, no blood. No dogs neither, they all ran an' hid in the house like they seen the wolves." Wayne ground his molars, unwilling to voice the thought in his head.

"You think maybe it was a ghost?" Darry tilts his head as he says this, shifting in his seat. Though thankful someone else said it, Wayne still lobbed his empty beer can in Darryl's direction.

"Whats can youse even do abouts a ghost?" Dan asks.

"Don't know. Don't tell nobody neither, ain't worth drawin' a fuss." Wayne dropped his cigarette butt in a discarded coffee can and cracked open another beer. Giving the barn another sideways glance, he put away half the can in one drink. Wayne didn't admit to feeling fear often, but the sight of a severed head ain't somethin' you see every day. "We'll figure it out."

"Figger it out," Darryl echoed.

"We got enough livin' freeloadin' fucks 'round here, fuck knows we don't need dead ones too."

[Letterkenny opening music plays]

* * *

The room was still lit from the night before when Dean cracked his eyes open, a full night's sleep spent on top of his blankets and clad in denim. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled himself toward the alarm clock, silencing it with a heavy _thwomp._ Rolling onto his back, he sat up with his back turned to the clock and buried his face in his hands. Seemingly a moment later, Dean felt his head jerk up to see Sam standing at his bedroom door.

"Sleep well?" Sam asked, fighting back a shit-eating grin.

"Fuckin' fantastic." Dean stretched and emitted a barely-audible creak that evolved into a yawn.

"Don't worry, there's coffee in the kitchen." Sam pushed his shoulder off the door frame and stood straight to turn and walk away.

"Wait, who made it? You, or Cas?" Dean looked up at Sam through hooded eyes.

"Cas did, why?" Sam asked, trailing off as Dean hopped up and staggered out as quickly as his legs seemed to allow.

"'Cause he makes _coffee,_ not _brown water,"_ Dean said as he rounded the corner toward the kitchen.

Sam ambled into the kitchen after Dean, finding him pouring a mug of the rich liquid and doing absolutely nothing to suppress a grin. Dean turned, his smile wiping away at the sight of Sam's incredible resting bitch face. "What?" Dean croaked between sips.

"What's wrong with my coffee?" Sam kept his tone flat, and his hand from smacking the back of Dean's head.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with it, it's just— You could stand to make it a bit stronger is all." Dean caught himself rolling his shoulders forward and straightened his posture.

"Alright, that's it. I'm making the next pot of coffee and you can critique it since you're such a fuckin' connoisseur." Sam scoffed as he poured himself a mug and made his way to the hall.

Cas sat by the fireplace, the fire growing lethargic as the last of a log burned among ashes. His thousand-yard stare remained unwavering as Dean approached.

"You there?" Dean asked, snapping his fingers in Cas' line of sight. Cas shook his head and then looked up at Dean. "Thanks for the coffee," Dean added.

"Oh, um— yes." Cas blinked hard, a look of confusion settling in as he looked to Dean for a cue.

"I said thanks for— Are you alright in there?" Dean sat on the armrest of the reading chair, looking down into the angel's lost blue eyes.

"I have been experiencing difficulties with painful flashbacks of recent events, I don't know how to stop it. Nights are hard." Cas heard Dean's heart rate increase and knew already to direct his gaze back to the fire.

"Sounds like PTSD, I never imagined an angel struggling with mental illness," Sam said. He stepped closer, sitting in the chair opposite Cas.

"Yes, but most angels act according to their orders. They don't question their actions, they do as they are instructed. By defying heaven, I created the potential for questioning my own actions and considering how I could have chosen differently. Self doubt, remorse over my actions, regret about the outcomes. I suppose this is the price of free will." Cas' stare grew distant, then he pinned his eyes shut and rubbed his face in his hands.

"Well I know that Sammy and I have both been through some PTSD before, so anything we can do to help you get through it. You aren't condemned to suffer alone, we're here for you." Sam nodded emphatically as Dean gripped Cas' shoulder. "We'll figure out something so we aren't abandoning you for hours every night, there's gotta be a way to fix this."

"Though in my attempts at distracting myself last night, I may have found us an interesting case." Cas stood, crossing over to the table where Sam's laptop sat hibernating. The screen lit up revealing an online discussion, and Cas scrolled up to reveal a story in a block of text. "This is on the paranormal subreddit, sounds like a haunted barn."

Sam rose, swapping seats for the one in front of the computer. "I don't know, Cas. This is in Canada, it's a hell of a drive."

"Only if you drive the whole way, which would require a border crossing. I can bring you two and the Impala, just not a very long distance."

"So drive toward the border, you hop us over the crossing, we drive the rest of the way. Simple enough," Dean said.

"I'll respond, let them know we can help." Sam smiled, then began pounding out a message.

* * *

Wayne took pride in his dogs, who were all well behaved and trained to guard the property. So his stud male tearing into the cattle barn barking wildly was as shocking an act as it was startling. Reeling with pitchfork in hand, the apparition of a woman in a blood-soaked dress soaring straight for him naturally got a swingin' at.

As the points of the pitchfork grazed her, a shriek rung in his ears and she vanished. Frozen in place, Wayne watched, listening for any sign of her return with his pitchfork raised and ready to rock.

The big shepherd dog walked up to him, pawing his leg before turning and pointing his nose at the tractor. He looked between Wayne and the machine until Wayne took a few cautious strides toward the equipment. The dog ran forward and began pawing at the harrower, and Wayne noticed a stick caught among the discs.

He crouched next to the machine, and wiggled the stick loose from the blades. Looking it over, where the disc had struck the side of it shone bright white. Wayne turned it in his hand as a sick feeling sunk in his gut, and brushing away dirt he confirmed his worst suspicions. He held a human femur.

"So what the fuck in God's good green globe am I supposed to do with it?" Wayne demanded, the cool morning shade under the produce stand deepening the chill he couldn't seem to shake.

"I reckons you should calls the federalies," Dan stated before nursing his coffee.

"What're the cops gonna do with a bone? I betcha whoever killed them is long dead anyway, who're they gonna arrest?" Darryl pondered aloud.

"Your inside thoughts're spillin' out again, Darry." Wayne gripped his double-double, sipping the hot coffee in a dire hope to feel warmth. "Doedn't it seem unusually cold fer this time o'year?"

"A tit bit nipply out, fer sures," Dan said.

"You wanna take about 20% off that there, Squirrelly Dan?" Wayne said, a smirk tugging at his taut lips.

"Well I think we oughtta let the police know we found a body. Er, least part of one." Darryl hocked a wad of spit toward the ditch before taking a drink.

"Hard no. Last thing we need 'round here is rumours flying with the five-oh scouring the property. 'Sides, last I hear cops ain't no ghostbusters." Wayne pinned his coffee between his knees long enough to light a dart before wrapping his big hands around the cup and soaking the heat again.

"The cops 'round here are ten-ply. Anyway, I think I may have an alternative solution." Katy started.

"Well pitter-patter," Wayne barked.

"I posted our story on the paranormal subreddit, and this dude says him and his brother hunt ghosts and can get rid of it for us." Katy looked back at Wayne, watching his stony face sit unmoving until he drew in a drag and blew a cloud of smoke.

"And how much they chargin' fer this service?"

"Didn't say, but we can negotiate. We kinda do need their help."

"Texas-size ten-four. When can they be here?"


	2. Rhymes with Flim Flortons

"This is the coffee everyone raves about? It's foul! It tastes like brewed cigarette butts," Dean spat incredulously. He tipped the coffee out the window of the Impala as they cruised along the rolling hills of Southern Ontario. Dean's face twisted with disgust as he ran his tongue over his teeth in an attempt to rid the flavour from his mouth.

"Well I can see golden arches up the road, why don't we stop and grab coffee there?" Sam suggested.

"You think a McCoffee is going to taste better than that?" Dean sneered.

"Judging by the drive-thru line alone, I'm betting it _is_ better." Sam smirked as Dean's facial twitches betrayed the acceptance of defeat and he pulled in to join the line.

"May I have a new coffee as well? This coffee is rather— peculiar in taste." Cas chimed from the back seat.

"Is it seriously that bad you guys?" Sam asked, reaching back to take Cas' drink. He took in the scent of it before cautioning a swig that turned to him jerking his door open and spitting it out on the worn asphalt. He poured the remaining contents of the cup to the ground below before closing his door again. Pushing his hair from his face, Sam turned back to them. "I stand harshly corrected. It's like drinking the rainwater from an ashtray." Sam trailed off, sucking his tongue and sticking it out repeatedly.

Twenty minutes waiting and a round of coffees and breakfast sandwiches later, the Impala's tires met open road again. Dean flipped the sun visor down and watched the road signs. "Line eighty-seven, left here?" to which Sam nodded. The car became quiet with the devouring of breakfast sandwiches and fresh coffee. A series of grunts, nods and thumbs up between the three confirmed everyone's satisfaction. Dean used one hand to hold his sandwich and steer, the other to turn the dial on the radio. It wasn't long before Dean found the classic rock station and cranked the volume as the three took the quiet country road.

It was a farm house like any other, barely anything to indicate its individuality except for a large trailer with a wooden shelter built atop it. Sam grunted, then swallowed his mouthful. "That's it, Katy said there's a produce stand at the end of the laneway." Dean turned in, parking to one side of the wide gravel drive and switching the car off.

Sam opened his door and swung his legs out, rising to his full height and stretching before turning to the group of flannel-clad folk sitting by the produce stand. "Hello," Sam said, raising a hand to wave.

"How're ya now?" Wayne said.

"I'm alright, thanks. And yourself?" Sam replied.

"Oh, not s'bad." Wayne mechanically stood, then approached Sam and offered a hand. Sam shook his hand, Dean and Cas joining shortly after.

"So I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean, and our friend Castiel." All eyes looked to Cas, looks of intrigue across their features.

"What sortsa names is Cas-tea-all?" Dan asked.

"Is it French?" Darryl chimed.

"It's Enochian, it means shield of God." Cas shifted in place as the stares at him remained unbroken.

After a long silence, Wayne finally cleared his throat and spoke. "Well ain't that the softest thing I heard all week."

"Soft as a kitten," Darry added.

"Soft as lambs wool." Wayne said.

"You're feathers, bud." Darryl said.

"What's with the trench coat there, bud? You plannin' on fightin' a war, or flashin' young girls at the gas station?"

"Young boys I'll betcha, look at that perfectly coiffed hair."

"A bit swish, I'll say."

Dean gritted his teeth together and stepped forward, putting an arm in front of the bewildered Cas. "I don't know what the fuck you guys are even saying, but leave him alone," Dean growled through clenched teeth.

"Alright, cool it. No need for a tilly now." Wayne stood, extending a hand in a truce. Dean ground his teeth, but Cas reached past him and shook Wayne's hand.

"Most call me Cas, that will suffice." He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, shooting him a pleading glance. Dean met eyes with Cas, his expression softened, and he relaxed his shoulders.

"Ohhh, I sees hows it is," Dan whispered.

"Boy, howdy," Wayne followed.

"Listen," Dean said, turning to Sam and Cas. "I gotta get some sleep after that drive. I'm gonna go get set up at the motel, do you guys need anything from the car?"

"Pump the brakes, don't be a ridiculous Richard. We got a spare room fer ya," Wayne said.

"Thank you, that's gracious of you to offer. Right, Dean?" Sam said. Dean grimaced at Sam, but nodded and rounded the Impala and opened the trunk. Wayne followed, and he and Dean moved their overnight bags into the house.

"C'mon, boys, I'll show you to the barn," Katy said, leading Sam and Cas up the laneway to the large barn.

* * *

A beat up Honda Civic blasting EDM rolled up the dirt road and pulled in behind the Impala. The sun-starved figure of Stewart climbed out and looked around before spotting Katy up in the equipment barn with Sam and Cas. The morning sun beat hard on Stewart's black clothes and hair, his skin all the paler for it as he made the long walk up the laneway to where Katy stood watching.

"Hey, Katy. You look beautiful," Stewart said.

"You look," Katy started, "less greasy."

"What shenanigans are afoot here today?" Stewart tented his fingertips together, and looked Sam and Cas up and down. Sam watched back from under his brow.

"I thought shenanigans were your specialty, Mind your fucking business, Stewart," Katy spat.

"Alright, gentlemen," Wayne said as he approached. "How're we gonna fuck this pig?"

"I thought we were here to diffuse a haunting, not have intercourse with animals," Cas said deadpan.

"Well— I mean—" Wayne started, blinking as if to clear the bug splatters from a windshield. "I never meant we were going to lit'rly fuck a pig." Wayne said, aiming his squinted glare at Cas.

"Ah, a local figure of speech."

"Thanks for joining us there, Super Chief."

"I'm sorry," Stewart cut in. "But did you say there was a haunting? A spirit, a spectre, a phantom, a presence, is haunting Wayne and Katy's barn? Interesting. How can I help?"

"It's alright, we got this. You should really go until this is all over." Sam smiled and nodded at Stewart, shooting a glance at Wayne.

"Best do as the man says, 'fore I get tired of behaving." Stewart sunk back from the group before turning to walk back to his car. Katy followed after, a conversation kicking up between them as they both got in Stewart's car and left.

"Ok, Wayne, so where did you find the remains?" Sam asked.

"Ain't plural, just this." Wayne walked over to the parked tractor and picked up the leg bone. "Sucker was lodged in the disc harrow, dinged up the blades pretty good. Must've run it over when I was tillin' the soil."

"So the remains are out in the field somewhere?" Sam asked, incredulity seeping into his tone.

"Somewhere," Wayne said, looking out over the field.

"I'll start looking," Cas said, then walked out. Sam and Wayne watched in silence as Cas started to walk out to the field, waiting until he was in it before Wayne piped up.

"I was gonna say we take the quads out to check, but fuck, if he wants to dirty up those fancy dress shoes then by all means."

"So, um, is there any way to know how long the body was out there? Would you have seen it last year before the winter?" Sam tried not to laugh at Cas tripping over rows of dirt in the field, instead locking his gaze at Wayne.

"I did go out last fall to run the moldboard plow over the old alfalfa, could be that stirred up the corpse. Then the frost pushed the body out like a stone. That corpse could've been there for decades, this field's been a hay field as long as I can remember." Wayne looked out to the field, Sam barely discerning when his expression turned to a frown of incredulity. "Where'd your brother's boyfriend go?"

Sam tried to speak, looked out to the field, looked back at Wayne, looked back out, then closed his mouth and blinked hard as he strained for a response. "Um, I'm not sure, maybe he's beyond the hill?" Sam suggested. "Him and my brother aren't—"

"Yes they are. I seen the way they look at each other. I had a stud male dog who was perfect for breeding, 'cept he always tried to breed the other males. When we found another stud like him, they looked at each other the same way as Dean and dandy-boy do. If they're pretending they ain't in love with each other, they've got it bass ackwards." Wayne crossed his arms, keeping an eye out for Cas to reappear in view.

Sam let out a long sigh. "I've tried to put it into words Dean will understand, but he always brushes me off and insists he's not gay." Sam stood alongside Wayne watching for Cas.

"Maybe hearin' it from someone other than you will knock some fuckin' sense into 'em. Lovin' him don't make him fruity loops, but sure as God's got sandals, acting like he don't love him makes him ten-ply."

"What— what does that mean?" Sam stammered.

"Means he's soft. Two ply is soft, so ten ply is really fuckin' soft."

"Gotcha." Sam smiled briefly, then caught the sight of Cas' head appearing from over a ridge. "Hey, there he is."

"Alright, fuck it. Grab hold of the tractor, let's go get him." Wayne started up the diesel-powered beast, disconnecting and dropping the disc harrow from the PTO. He gestured to where Sam should stand and hold on, and drove off to the field.

Sam white-knuckle gripped the handle on the side of the tractor as it rolled across the uneven ground, threatening to throw him off at the slightest release of his grip. Wayne caught up to Cas, and revved the engine down to hear him speak.

"The body is over this way," Cas said, pointing off toward the rough wooded area to the back of the property. Wayne gestured for Cas to climb on the tractor as well, so Sam backed himself against the metal wheel guard. He wrapped his hands around the handle as Cas climbed aboard and held the open door of the cab.

They approached the disturbed soil where human bones protruded from the ground. Wayne slowed and stopped the tractor, shutting the engine down and parking it. Cas climbed down without issue, but Sam took a moment to peel himself from the tractor and get his wobbling legs under him. Wayne climbed down from the cab and joined them in inspecting the remains.

"These bones are old," Cas said as he pulled a rib from the ground. "There's no tissue remaining on the bones and the bones themselves are dried and brittle, not characteristic of fresh remains." He handed the rib to Sam as he pulled a mangled piece of pelvis from the dirt. "Wayne, did you say the ghost was a woman holding a man's head?"

"Can confirm," Wayne said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"This is the body of a man, not a woman." Cas gestured to points on the half pelvis and explained, "the dimensions here indicate this person was male. A female would have much wider dimensions for child-bearing."

"Alright, Temperance Brennan, so we're SOL on the woman's body." Sam said. "Well, we'll still salt and burn the bones, but there must be remains elsewhere."

"Salt and burn? What the fuck're you talkin' about?" Wayne said.

"Yeah, sounds fucked up, I know." Sam started. "But doing that forces the spirit to rest, so it'll move on to the afterlife."

"I 'spose that makes sense," Wayne said. He walked up to the tractor and pulled a shovel out from behind the seat in the cab. "Well pitter-patter."

"Um, Sam?" Cas said, pointing towards the trees where the image of a ragged woman stood watching them.

"Shit, let's go," Sam said, pulling Cas away. The woman shot forward, swinging at Cas with her carving knife and slicing his arm open. Cas hissed with pain, then turned and ran off with the woman in a close pursuit. Sam grabbed the shovel from Wayne, digging viciously at the spot the bones protruded from in the dirt.

Wayne returned to the tractor, and grabbed a jerrycan in one hand and a heavy prybar in the other. He brought the fuel over to Sam, then gripped the prybar with both hands. "I don't have salt, but that should help with the burning part. I'll stand guard if you can dig." Sam nodded at Wayne and continued shredding through the ground, collecting the bones in a pile.

Cas tripped as he ran, face slamming down in the dirt. As he raised his head and spat out the mouthful of mud, the spirit appeared behind him and swung her knife, slicing Cas across the back and spraying blood onto the dirt. Wayne bolted across the open space between them, closing in with unbelievable speed in spite of his size. With a hard swing of the prybar, the spirit dissipated and vanished. Wayne extended a hand to Cas, helping him up.

"Shit," Sam grunted, as the spirit appeared next to him. He took a swing with the shovel, her form dissolving once again. Wayne hooked his hand around Cas' elbow, pulling him back toward the tractor and rejoining Sam at the hole. Seeing Wayne and Cas approach, Sam called to Cas. "Have I got the whole skeleton here, Bones?"

Cas glared, but began sorting through the remains. "This is everything, we're good." He extended a hand to help Sam climb out of the hole, then helped place all the bones in as Sam poured gasoline on them. Then Sam fished a box of salt from his inside coat pocket and dumped some on top. He struck a match, igniting a fire that sent the female spirit into a rage. She knocked both Sam and Cas backward, but disappeared from sight as Wayne approached. He stopped, looking around for any movement other than Sam and Cas climbing up off the ground.

Wayne stiffened at the sound of the tractor's powerful diesel engine roaring to life behind him. He turned to see all the lights on and the exhaust pipe spewing with no driver in sight. The tractor lurched, flung dirt from the tires as it screamed at full power and aimed itself at Wayne. He bolted straight at it, at the last second diving into the dirt between the front wheels as it passed over him. It turned, looping back towards him as he stood and ran back toward Cas and Sam.

Sam held the salt box, pouring salt into the palm of his hand and shooting Cas a worried glance. As the tractor came within range, Sam hurled the handful of salt at the engine block. Some salt got sucked into the air intake and the rest spraying across the tractor's green body. With a shrill shriek, the spirit lifted and took off for the woods, leaving the tractor idling and rolling towards them. Wayne caught up to it and hopped in the cab, bringing it to a stop and motioning for Cas and Sam to climb up.

"Fuck this shit, let's get back to the house fer now," Wayne said. As Sam and Cas gripped the exterior of the tractor, Wayne clutched the controls and drove back towards the barn. 

After parking the tractor, Wayne sat still a moment clenching his jaw before he turned to Sam. "Y'know, a man really ought to be able to trust his tractor. Is there any way to prevent that kind of thing from happening?" He sat looking at the controls, a hand on his chin and a deep ridge in his forehead.

"Yeah, Dean will know. He's got protection symbols under the hood of his car so he'll know how to help. Only you might want to make sure the more Christian members of the community never see under the hood of the tractor." Sam smiled at Wayne, nodding. "Also thanks for your help out there, good thinking with the iron prybar and shovel."

"Didn't know it had to be iron, that's just what I got fer tools 'round here," Wayne said, and nodded back. "What say we get back in the house an' get cleaned up? Cas got a bit roughed up by that ghostly fuck."

"Sounds good, I'll set up the house so the spirits can't enter it either." They climbed down, then headed for the back of the house where Squirrelly Dan and Darryl sat in chairs on the deck.

"What's happened to youse guys?" Dan asked as the three approached.

"Fuckin' spirits will fuck you up," Wayne said, brushing some dirt from his flannel shirt.

"You get it done?" Darryl asked.

"Negative. Found the man's body, but not the woman's. We'll have to figure out where the fuck she's buried before she can be put to rest. Until then, beware the tractor." Wayne said as he started toward the back door.

Sam sat with Cas at the kitchen table, Wayne returning from the bathroom with a first aid kit and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Sam nodded in thanks as he opened the case, Cas wincing and stripping off layers of clothing until he was bare chested. Wayne ascended the stairs, closing the bathroom door and starting the shower.

"Good call letting the cuts stay there," Sam said softly as Cas winced at the touch of alcohol-soaked gauze. "Bad enough these guys have to contend with spirits, right?"

"That was my thinking. I already seem to make them uneasy, I'm not sure how they'd take hearing that I'm— you know." Cas shot Sam a smile, then sucked air through his teeth at the burn of more alcohol.

Once they had cleaned up, Sam took to drawing a salt perimeter around the house. Cas went outside and discussed the history of the house with Wayne and the others.

"This house was bought by our parents when mom was pregnant with me, before us it was owned by a Mennonite family for generations. They tend to bury theirs in special cemeteries at their churches." Wayne took a long drag off his cigarette, blowing out a long plume of smoke.

"That family did have a rough past, the father disappeared rather mysteriously 'fore we was born," Darryl said, scratching at his head. "Grandma Martin refused to talk 'bout him under any circumstances."

"Some says he was abusives to hers, maybes he _was_ an' he gots himself some olds-order justice." Dan added.

"Y'know, that would make sense, since she's holdin' his severed head when I see 'er," Wayne added. "So what now? Do we gotta salt and burn her corpse too?"

"That is generally the first course of action we would take, hopefully salting and burning her remains will be sufficient to lay her to rest." Cas scratched at his arm where Sam had wrapped gauze. He maintained the image of injury under his bloodied and slashed coat, despite letting the wound heal. "Do you know where their family members are buried?"

"They went to the Mennonite church up the road, betcha they're buried on that church property." Darryl lit a smoke himself and took a long drag.

"Wait, hold on. What'dya mean 'hopefully' she'd be put to rest?" Wayne asked.

"Sometimes," Sam started as he walked out on the deck and placed the box of salt on the railing. "Spirits attach themselves to items of importance to them, so even if their body was cremated, they still have an attachment to this world. So then we'd have to find the item and burn it the same way."

"'S'probably her knife, I know I seen it before in the barn." Wayne stood, motioning to Darryl and Dan. "C'mon boys, measure twice an' cut once. Let's go find it."


	3. Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

Cas sat lost in thought, his mind wandering far from his vessel that sat slouching in the living room of the old farm house. When Wayne gave him a firm jostling, he flinched before coming back to awareness of his surroundings.

"Catchin' a nap there, big shoots?" Wayne said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Sort of," Cas said, scratching his arm and smiling at Wayne. "What's going on?"

"Sam 'n' us guys found her carving knife so I was thinkin' we should hop in the truck and go find the cemetery where old Grandma Martin is buried. It'll be easier to find her headstone in broad daylight, then we'll go back tonight after dark and salt and burn her corpse with her knife." Wayne gestured for Cas to follow, and they left the house and climbed in to Wayne's black pickup truck.

The cab remained silent for the first few minutes of the drive, before Wayne loudly cleared his throat. "So," he began, scratching at the back of his head before dropping his hand to the steering wheel. "You and Dean." His brow ridge deepened as his mind strained for the words.

"Um, what about Dean and I?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"Youse two got feelings fer each other," Wayne stated more than asked.

"Um, I suppose we do have a profound bond," Cas said, his brow furrowing deeper.

"S'not really what I meant," Wayne started. "Dean is sweet on you." Cas stared blankly at Wayne, so he sighed and continued. "I'll tell you what I told Sam. I used to have a stud male Shepherd that was perfect for breeding. He had good bone structure, good personality, everything. 'Cept when I'd bring him to a female to breed, he had no interest. He wanted to breed the other males. When I found another breeder had a male like this, I brought my stud to him. Those two dogs were the happiest fuckin' creatures on the planet." Wayne paused, glancing over at Cas who remained unmoving. "When you an' Dean look at each other, you have the same look those dogs had fer each other."

"I'm not sure I understand," Cas said. "Dean and I aren't attempting to breed."

"Well— No, I 'spose not." Wayne ran a hand over his face, and sighed. "I just mean, those dogs loved each other, even if two male dogs aren't gonna have no puppies. Some might say they don't belong together, but they're happy together. Life's too short to be miserable." Wayne glanced at Cas, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Dean does seem to be resistant to the idea of greater closeness with me, since he normally is with females sexually." Cas stared out the side window of the truck for a bit before turning back to Wayne. "We've never attempted to address the topic directly. He tries to act like he doesn't like closeness, even though his heart rate increases and his pupils dilate whenever I place myself in close proximity to him."

"It's more than that too, he was fixin' fer a Donnybrook when Darry and I were havin' a chirp at you." Wayne shot Cas a reassuring glance, then went back to watching the road. He slowed the truck, then pulled in to a driveway leading to a tattered single-level building flanked by a parking lot and a cemetery dotted with small headstones.

"How do I start that conversation with him? He's quick to brush it off every time."

"Maybe you an' I'll broach the subject with him later, then I'll skip out an' let you two figger it out yourselves."

"That would help." Cas looked over at Wayne with wide eyes, a tug at his lips before he spoke again. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

"No problem, just doin' what I can fer my friends that're lookin' fer love."

* * *

The room was dimly lit when Dean cracked his eyes open, the setting sun casting what little light it could across the sparsely decorated spare room. Through thin walls, he heard the unmistakable rhythmic grunting of sex, heavy breathing and the creak of a bed frame. Dean sat up, running a hand over his face. From the room below him, Dean heard raucous laughter from Sam and other less familiar voices.

He opened the door to the hallway, getting an eyeful of Stewart's bare backside and Katy splayed out on the bed under him. His gaze lingered long enough that he met eyes with Katy before turning his head away. "Don't mind me, carry on," Dean said, swatting a hand in their direction before descending the stairs.

Around the kitchen table sat Sam, Wayne, Darryl, Dan, and Cas. As Dean walked in, they all took a shot of a rich amber liquid labelled 'Gus'n'Bru' and tapped their shot glasses on the table twice in unison. Cas did the same, but with an empty bottle.

"Mornin' Dean!" Sam slurred. Dean glanced over at the counter to see the line of emptied bottles, the smell of whisky thick in the air. Dean picked up a bottle, a smile cracking at the label with two bully-breed dogs grinning.

"Evenin' Sammy, have an eventful day?" Dean teased. He walked up behind the seat Cas perched on and put a hand on the back of the chair.

"Oh hell yeah, we found the remains of the farmer who got his head chopped off, so we burned his bones. We found the wife's carving knife in the barn so we're gonna go burn it with her corpse after dark. After the ghost chased Cas across the field and possessed the tractor to chase down Wayne, we decided some heavy drinking was required." Sam wobbled as he relayed the story, smiles and nods from the others.

"Cas pertnear ate the dirt after he tripped while running 'cross the field in those fancy shoes. But I ain't never met a man who can drink like this," Wayne said, edging Cas on with a full bottle of Gus'n'Bru minus the shots poured around for everyone else.

"Dean, would you like some?" Cas offered, teetering in place as he held the bottle up to Dean. Dean couldn't help but smile at the sight of an intoxicated Cas, his hair askew and his eyes glossy. He took a few long drinks before surrendering the bottle with a hiss. Cas smiled and upended the bottle, finishing the rest and tapping the table in sync with everyone else's emptied shots.

"Fuckin' unbelievable," Darryl mumbled.

"I wouldn't wants to gets into a drinkin' competitions with youse, that's fer sures." Dan said.

"Hey Dean, Cas, could you come join me outside fer a minute," Wayne said, grabbing his smokes off the counter and heading to the front door. He gave Darryl and Dan a look, then nodded at Sam before leading the other two out the front.

The evening air was cold, the humidity giving the air a bite as strong as the Gus'n'Bru on their exposed cheeks. Dean rammed his hands in his pockets as Wayne lit a dart, the tip glowing bright orange in the wind.

"Something up, man?" Dean said, glancing between Wayne and Cas, who had cracked open a fresh bottle and was already working on it.

"Just wanted to tell you the fuckin' blatantly obvious that you're still denying, so I'm told." Wayne took a drag off the cigarette, then gestured for Cas to give Dean the bottle of liquor. Cas nipped a last shot out of the bottle before handing it over to Dean. With a third of a bottle, Wayne gestured for Dean to drink. "I'll wait 'til you finish that off, best you're loosened up 'fore I start talkin'."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, but the stony look set in Wayne's face had Dean surrendering to the orders. He guzzled down the vicious drink, a heat burning his throat and stomach as the alcohol started to permeate his blood and loosen his balance.

"Alright, so here's the scoop: You two are sweet fer each other. I already talked to Cas and Sam earlier, and they say it's true. But you're too fuckin' worried about bein' soft that you're hurting both yourself, _and_ him." Wayne flicked ash from his dart and took another long drag, his next words accompanied by a shroud of smoke and giving his hardened features an even stonier look. "I told Cas here I'd get this conversation started since you're so keen to shut it down on him."

Cas reached out and gripped Dean's arm, encouraging him to turn and face him. "Dean, I've cared so much for you for so long, and I desire greater closeness with you. Your body gives all the cues of the attraction being mutual, but you always pull away and act like your heart isn't pounding in your chest, like your blood-flow isn't being redire—"

"A'ight, Cas, let's take about five percent off 'er there." Wayne shook his head and pulled another drag off his smoke, turning his head away as he smiled.

Dean shuffled in place, the Gus'n'Bru quickly warming his whole body with the fuzzy caress of whisky. He turned his face into the wind, the faint smell of neighbouring farms on the breeze as it nipped at his cheeks. "Cas," Dean breathed, slowly shaking his head.

"Hey, listen. I don't need to supervise you two, just fuckin' figger it out." Wayne flicked his cigarette butt off into the yard and pulled the front door open, disappearing inside and leaving Dean and Cas in the cold.

Dean let out a long sigh, the whisky burning through him and making his movements harder to control. He leaned back against the house, trying to keep himself upright. "Cas, I never meant to hurt you," Dean started. "In fact I was trying to keep you from getting hurt. I hurt everyone I love, always have. And yeah, I didn't want to believe I had feelings for a dude, but I guess the body doesn't lie." He rubbed both hands over his face, Cas suddenly in front of him as he lowered them.

"And I know in your self loathing you probably thought you weren't good enough for me either, right? Typical fuckin' Winchester diatribe of bullshit. You are _the_ righteous man as written about from the beginning of time. Me? I'm not even in the fucking bible. I'm nobody. If anything," he said, putting the tip of his index finger on Dean's chest. "I'm the one not good enough for _you."_ Cas started to teeter forward, stumbling into Dean. He caught the angel, holding him against his body in an awkward embrace.

"I guess we both have self esteem issues then," Dean said, keeping eye contact with the staggered Cas.

"So what's it gonna be, Dean? Are you going to stop being ridiculous, or are you going to keep pushing me away?" Cas started to raise his voice, trying to wrestle himself upright in Dean's arms.

Dean felt his cheeks flush hot with the whisky, and with a muttered "fuck it," Dean grabbed Cas by the coat and pulled him into a sloppy kiss that tasted of whisky and and morning breath and something chocolate Cas ate earlier. They teetered and slid down the side of the house, landing hard on the grass. A few chuckles escaped their lips before they locked in another kiss, Cas climbing on top of Dean.

Cas buried a hand in Dean's hair, clutching his coat with the other. Heavy breaths clashed as their tongues performed a sloppy ballroom dance, Dean moaning under the weight of Cas on top of him. Dean briefly hesitated, pulling back and looking into Cas' shimmering eyes. "Does that answer your question?" Dean asked, grinning.

Cas let out a guttural growl, and said, "I wanna hear you say it, Dean."

Dean let out a long breath, then locked eyes with Cas. "I— Yeah. Well, I do. I love you, Cas." He watched as Cas' eyes softened, tears beginning to well up. Cas clutched Dean's coat and buried his face in Dean's chest, sobbing. "Hey, c'mon. It's alright. I said I _do_ love you." Dean rested a hand on Cas' head, then wrapped his other arm around him.

Sniffling, Cas lifted his head high enough to speak and said, "it's just that— I'm so happy." He dropped his head back down on Dean's chest, Dean letting out an "oof" at the weight. Cas continued to speak but the words muffled in Dean's shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Dean said, stroking Cas' hair and then trying to lift his head.

"I said, I love you too, Dean." Cas looked up at him, lower lip trembling. Dean smiled and lifted his head, planting a kiss and caressing his head in his hand.

"So I take it you figgered it out?" Wayne's voice said from the front door. Dean and Cas broke the kiss and reeled to look over, seeing Wayne watching from the doorway. "C'mon back in, Darry's made some Kraft Dinner." Wayne turned back and shouted into the house, "Hey Sam, y'owe me ten bucks."

Sam looked up from the table, Wayne giving him a stiff nod before joining Darryl in the kitchen and serving up the orange pasta into bowls for everyone. Behind him, Dean and Cas rejoined the group, arms slung comfortably around each other, swaying and bumping into each other as they walked. "Wow, I don't know how you did it, Wayne. But you did the impossible." Sam stood, fishing a purple Canadian ten dollar bill from his wallet and handing it across the counter to Wayne.

Dean and Cas settled into adjacent chairs at the dining table. Dean shooting Cas a worried glance. "I'm ok," Cas whispered. Dean's shoulders relaxed, and he smiled as he slumped his body weight into Cas. Catching motion in his peripheral vision, Dean looked up to see Sam bouncing up and down in his seat, a grin spread from ear to ear.

"It's so sweet! I'm so happy for you two!" Sam said, his bouncing accelerating.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean croaked.

 _"You_ shut up," Sam spat back, laughter shaking him.

"So I owe you an apology, Dean. I made you drink all that whisky on an empty stomach. It's not proper," Wayne said, setting down a bowl each in front of Dean and Cas. "I'm gonna go light up the grill, how d'you like yer steak?"

"Oh, thanks, medium rare," Dean said, Cas nodding along. Sam said "same" as Wayne looked to him. With a stiff nod, Wayne went out to the back porch with a barbecue lighter and a plate of raw meat. Darryl brought bowls for Sam and Dan before retrieving his bowl and joining them at the table.

Shortly after Wayne went out, Stewart descended part-way down the stairs and looked into the kitchen.

"Wayne's out the back," Darryl said, Stewart jumping at his voice. He careened down the last of the steps and stopping at the bottom to wait for Katy to join at her leisurely speed.

"Well, Katy, I best be going," Stewart said, leaning toward Katy with lips pursed. Katy raised a hand and waved, blowing past him and heading for the back door.

"Bye Stewart," she said as she walked off, not once looking up from her phone. Stewart shifted around the front door before turning and tearing out of the house.

Sam, Dean, Cas, Dan, and Darryl all sat in relative silence, eating their mac and cheese, Darryl taking an extra moment to put ketchup on his. Sam glanced over, a scowl of disgust cracking across his face. "Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Darryl said, grinning.

Dean gingerly lifted the bright orange noodles to his mouth, nibbling at the fork. He looked over to see Cas shovelling it away. Catching a glint of a tear in Cas' eye, Dean shivered with guilt. He gently set the fork down, swallowing what was in his mouth before snuggling up to Cas and burying his face in Cas' shoulder.

"Youse alright, Dean?" Dan asked. Dean lifted his head a bit, but the tremor in his lip and fresh well of tears had him burying his face again.

"I think he'll be ok, it's just been an emotional night for us," Cas explained.

"I understands, Sam says youse guys've had feelings since youse mets. That was how longs ago?" Dan said.

"Eight years since he pulled you out of hell," Sam said, his face resuming neutral before the realization of what he said set in.

"Oh man, what was your poison? Crack? Meth? Schneef?" Darryl asked.

Dean lifted his head, turning to the table and wiping tears from his cheeks. "Actually, gambling addiction. Wagered my soul to the wrong people and lost, y'know? He saved me, got me out of there. Gave me a reason to live again." Dean weakly smiled at Cas, winking. He shot a brief glare at Sam before resuming his nibbling of the pasta.

"Ever since then, they've been makin' eyes at each other, and I've been watching them yearn for each other this whole time." Sam shovelled another fork of noodles in his mouth, shaking his head at Dean and Cas. "'Bout fuckin' time you two hooked up."

"Well youse gots each others nows, and that's the important parts." Dan said.

"True, though I can't help but feel I owe him for lost time," Dean said, reaching under the table and resting a hand on Cas' thigh.

"Nah, don't waste time worryin' about what coulda been and just focus on what is. Enjoy it now that you have it," Darryl said.

"Wise words, thank you Darryl," Cas said, wrapping an arm around Dean and squeezing him.

Katy strode into the kitchen, gathered a stack of plates from the cupboard, then disappeared out the back door again. Moments later she returned and placed plates with a perfectly grilled steak each in front of Dean and Cas. "Down the hatch," she said with a smile. Wayne walked in carrying plates with steaks for Sam and Dan, then Katy slipped out and brought back two more for her and Darryl. Wayne went out and shut off the grill, returning to the kitchen with his own steak in tow.

After their meal, Wayne got more Gus'n'Bru from the cupboard. "Still pretty early on, we ought to wait until after midnight before we go digging up corpses." He poured a round of shots for everyone, handing the rest of the bottle to Cas. "Ya fuckin' freak," he said with a laugh. They all drank, Cas finishing the bottle in one go. Wayne passed out beers and everyone toasted to Grandma Martin.

"May she rest in peace," Darryl slurred.

"Amens to thats," Dan added.


	4. Asshole Wabbit

Dean stumbled around the upper level of the house in search of a bucket for the much-too-drunk Sam he'd put to bed. He staggered himself as he collected a glass of water and painkillers to leave nearby. As Dean pulled the blanket up, Sam opened his eyes and said, "Dean, Canadian beer is stroooong." Dean ruffled Sam's hair as he snuggled in to sleep, then tiptoed out and descended the stairs.

Katy, Dan, Darryl, Wayne, and Cas sat surrounding the table, playing cards scattered around between red plastic cups. Atop Wayne's head sat a stone grey stetson, on Katy's head an emerald green top hat adorned with shamrocks. Dan had left his hat on the kitchen counter and sat bare-headed. Darryl's head bore a tattered party hat worn askew, and Cas fidgeted with a pair of pink bunny ears on a headband.

"I don't understand why I am required to wear this," Cas griped.

"Because you're asshole, Cas," Katy explained, leaning forward to make eye contact.

"I didn't mean to be rude, why won't anyone explain what I did wrong? I'm not trying to be an asshole." Cas shot a pleading look at Dean as he sat at the table next to him.

"It's the title awarded to the person losing the hardest at the game, you didn't do anything wrong." Dean rubbed his hand between Cas' shoulders in soothing strokes. Dean pinned his lips in a line as Cas turned to look at him, his devastated expression framed with pink, fuzzy playboy bunny ears.

Wayne glanced at the clock, then set down the deck of cards on the table. "Well boys, shall we saddle up?" He tipped the brim of the stetson, a curl at the corner of his mouth.

The sky loomed oppressively dark overhead, a brief lightening flash illuminating the low cloud cover. Almost a full minute later, thunder crackled and rumbled in the heavy, humid air. Wayne paused and glanced upward, narrowing his eyes. "Better get this done quick, 'fore those storms roll in off the lake." Wayne took the driver's seat of one of the ATVs, Darryl climbing on as his passenger. Dean took the other, Cas timidly sitting behind him.

"Hold on tight, Cas," Dean said, pulling the angel's arms around his middle before starting the engine. Wayne took off, blazing a trail along the ditch toward the old Mennonite church, Dean following shortly after as Cas clung to him like a wet blanket. As they pulled in to the darkened property and whizzed between rows of modest headstones, lightening crashed closer on the horizon.

Wayne parked his quad, him and Darryl hopping off in time to avoid Dean bumping into the back of it as he and Cas arrived. Darryl loosened the straps tying down the shovels as Wayne freed the jerrycan from it's restraints. "Let's get diggin' boys," Wayne said, as Darryl, Dean, and Cas took shovels. Wayne set the jerrycan next to the Martin headstone and took his own shovel. Between the four of them digging, they were six feet down in only a few cracks of lightening.

They pried her casket open, laying her battered carving knife on her chest before climbing out of the hole. As Dean started pouring the gasoline over her remains, her spectre appeared behind him and swung at the back of his head. With a sickening slice, blood splattered onto Wayne and Darryl as Dean recoiled. Cas tore after her swinging his shovel, as Dean buckled to his knees. He finished the fuel dump before collapsing with a hand gripping his head.

Wayne rushed to his quad, retrieving a bag of road salt from the storage compartment of his ATV then rushing back. He upturned the bag of salt over her bones as Cas wrestled with her, taking a few slices to the torso. Feeling his pockets for a lighter, Wayne cursed as he dug a hand in his tight pockets. Then with a flick of his hand, Darryl set the hole ablaze with his dart, the ghost of Grandma Martin burning away with a quiet whoosh.

Cas dropped his shovel and rushed to Dean's side. "Dean, please look at me," he pleaded. Dean looked up, holding his hand to the back of his head as he did. With the light cast from the fire, Dean looked up at Cas and erupted into laughter.

"Cas, why are you still wearing the fucking bunny ears?" Lightening flashed behind Cas, followed very shortly by a crash of thunder that cut Cas' response off.

"I— I'm the asshole, I have to wear the ears." Cas' matter-of-fact expression and bloodied midsection offset with pink fuzzy ears caused even Wayne to loose control of laughter. As the skies opened and lake-effect torrential rain soaked them, they stood laughing hysterically next to the burning remains.

* * *

As the morning light backlit the heavy storm clouds, the group sat at the kitchen table. Water and juice pitchers sat out and they raided the stashes of advil. Cas sat tending to Dean's head gash with rubbing alcohol and gauze. Guilt twinged in his heart at the pain Dean would feel until they could get back on the road where his powers could heal him. Dean grunted at the sting of alcohol, Cas gingerly dabbing the open gash.

Wayne and Katy retreated to their rooms for a couple hours of sleep, as Dan and Darryl settled in to nap in the living room. Dean stood, trading places with Cas to clean and bandage his chest wound. Dean shot Cas a knowing smile as he wrapped the gauze around his bare chest, flattening the gauze out in firm and deliberate strokes. His strokes turned to running his hands over Cas' muscled chest, tracing the curves and firm lines of muscle. Dean shifted his gaze to Cas' face, seeing him looking back with a stoic, blank expression. Dean pulled his hand away as if burned and stammered, "Um, sorry."

Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Why are you apologizing, that was nice." Cas reached up, tracing a finger down Dean's jawline and pulling Dean closer until they kissed. Dean buried his fingers in Cas' hair, placing his other hand on Cas' bare shoulder and swept a leg to his other side. He straddled him on the chair, sitting facing him in his lap. Cas gripped Dean's hips, rubbing up his spine and massaging his back muscles. Their stubbled jaws brushed together, weathered and rough lips pulling each other closer. They bumped foreheads together, Dean pulling out of the kiss and positioning the tips of their noses together. Cas chased Dean, trying to dodge his nose and continue kissing him.

"Hey, we shouldn't get too frisky in someone else's kitchen," Dean said softly, tracing his fingertips through Cas' hair.

"True, what would you suggest?" Cas asked, biting his lower lip. "How about the barn?"

Dean looked into Cas' deep blue eyes, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in them. "The barn? Sounds fine to me."

* * *

The heavy cloud cover began to break up, revealing puffy whipped-cream tufts of cloud among the vast dome of deep blue. Sun shone in through the open barn door as Dean crouched by the tractor. He carefully painted warding symbols on the underside of the engine cover while Wayne stood by watching in fascination.

Sam stood using the empty hay wagon as a table, assembling hex bags to protect the house and barn. Nearby, Cas sat huddled on a bale of straw hugging his legs and resting his forehead on his knees. Sam glanced over, opening his mouth to speak before remembering years ago the advice not to ask stupid questions. He smirked, then silently resumed his work.

With a loud _thunk_ of the tractor's engine cover closing, Dean tuned and walked across the barn to the far corner where Cas sat curled up. Cas flinched as Dean placed a hand on him, but he relaxed his shoulders as Dean spoke. "Hey, you hangin' in there?" he asked, his voice soft. Cas slowly lifted his head and nodded, then set his chin on his knees and closed his eyes. Dean picked a stalk of hay out of Cas' hair.

"Can't handle all that liquor there, bud?" Wayne asked as he hoisted himself up to sit on the hay wagon.

"It's complicated. He can drink anyone under the table, and it takes way more to make him drunk than anyone. But then he stays drunk for way longer and then gets super hung over after," Sam explained as he tied the hex bags shut.

"You are spare parts, aren't ya bud?" Wayne said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"No, I was created whole," Cas said flatly, frowning up at Wayne. Dean laughed, rubbing Cas' back and sitting on the edge of the bale next to him.

"Well if you want a good hangover breakfast, go to Mary's just west of Lucknow, you can get a fantastic greasy breakfast fer cheap." Wayne suggested.

"We should check it out, nothin' a little bacon grease can't fix," Dean said, tracing his fingers through Cas' hair. Cas closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as Dean ran slow strokes over his scalp.

Cas raised his head off his knees and cleared his throat. "So, I recall discussing with Wayne the possibility of approaching you, but I don't remember much about what we did last night. I remember talking to you outside, it was cold out and we were lying in the grass for some reason? Then I remember playing cards, being told to wear pink bunny ears, then riding some sort of machine to the cemetery. Then I remember—" Cas said, giving a sideways look at Dean. "Um, but I don't remember the outcomes of any discussions we had or anything. I take it you were receptive to the idea of greater closeness?" Cas looked into Dean's eyes, slowly blinking.

"I— yeah, Cas. You and Wayne helped me see how ridiculous I was being by forcing a wedge between us." Dean's cheeks flushed red, looking down at his boots. Cas sat up, wrapping an arm around Dean's middle and nestling his head on Dean's shoulder.

"You two are so sweet I could fuckin' puke," Wayne spat.

"At least it's less nauseating than the sexual tension between them before, I do owe you my thanks," Sam said. He extended a hand to Wayne, shaking it before holding up the hex bags. "So place one in each of the four corners of your house and barn, that will keep spirits away. And don't hesitate to give us a call if anything else comes up." Wayne gave Sam a stiff nod, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his features.

* * *

Dean and Sam loaded the trunk with their overnight bags as Cas retched and spat up on the grass on the opposite side of the car to the produce stand. The air shook with rap music as a bright red jeep pulled into the end of the lane way, two burly jocks in muscle shirts hopping out onto the gravel. Reilly ran a hand through his long blonde locks, pulling the hair from his face as he looked at Cas.

"You ok there, bud?" He said.

Cas groaned and spat, then looked up. "Actually, no. I—"

"Just kidding, I don't give a fuck," Reilly said, rejoining Jonesy and approaching Katy who lay on her lounge chair.

Wayne took a swig of Gus'n'Bru before handing the bottle to Squirrelly Dan. "What the fuck d'you nutsacks want?"

"Well, we just got done pracky, bro," Jonesy started.

"Just knocked some slappers in the slot, bro," Reilly said.

"Some top shelf snipes, bud."

"No more ridin' the pine for us, boys."

"No more dustin' boys."

Wayne shot upright from the lawnchair. "I stand by my 'the fuck you want,'" Wayne barked.

"Just thought we'd invite this rocket out for some after-pracky celly, bud," Reilly said.

"Take this puck-bunny out for some post-pracky sandos, bud," Jonesy said.

A brief silence hung over the group as eyes fell on Katy. She looked up at the two, fire ablaze in her eyes. "You two nutsacks don't give up, do you? _Not. Interested."_ She reclined back on the lounge chair, closing her eyes and turning her face to the sun.

"You heard the lady, go give your balls a tug, ya titfuckers." Wayne clenched his fists and leaned forward as the two retreated to their jeep. Sam, Dean, and Cas stood watching from around the Impala as the two retreated.

"The fuck you lookin' at," Reilly said in the group's direction.

"Look, look! I think it's attempting to communicate with us," Sam said, nudging Dean in the arm.

"Unbelievable," Dean said, smiling and shaking his head. "It's so cute when they put clothes on the monkeys."

"Careful, Dean. They might fling a handful of shit at you. Here, let's get behind the car," Sam said, beginning to round the impala to the far side. Dean followed shortly after, putting a hand on Cas' shoulder as they watched the jeep back out and drive off, the guys holding up extended middle fingers as they shred the gravel up the road.

Cas doubled over and retched, ejecting a surge of dark liquid into the grass. He gripped the side of the Impala, holding himself up as Dean stroked his head.

"Hey," Dean said softly beside Cas' ear. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" Cas spat, then stood and leaned against the car. "Any way I can help heal you?" Dean persisted.

Cas breathed slowly, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. "I shouldn't. I'll survive, let's just get going home."

"And how are we going to get there without you?" Dean said, his eyebrows drawing together as he moved closer and put his hands on Cas' shoulders.

"We stop for breakfast, remember?" Cas smiled weakly, his belly lurching as Dean jumped back and dodged the torrent of whisky.

"Hey, Sam? Can you ask them if they have a bucket they can spare?" Dean said. Sam nodded, then crossed the laneway to the group.

Wayne returned with a bucket, rinsed it with a garden hose and checked it for liquid leaks before bringing it over to Dean. "Thanks again fer your help, and you can give us a call if there's anything we can do fer you too," Wayne said. Sam climbed in the backseat, letting Cas lay across the front bench and rest his head in Dean's lap. As Dean backed out, the four of them waved from the produce stand as the hunters accelerated up the dusty dirt road.


End file.
